


None Of Us Are Saints, But At Least We Stay (REVISED)

by paperwishes



Series: Sinners And Saints [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Awkward Lance (Voltron), Bilingual Lance (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Christmas, Christmas Caroling, Christmas Decorations, Christmas Party, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Developing Relationship, First Christmas, Fluff and Angst, Gay Keith (Voltron), Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Karaoke, Keith (Voltron) Has Abandonment Issues, Keith (Voltron) in Denial, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Lance (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt, Pre-Relationship, Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 05:23:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17656727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperwishes/pseuds/paperwishes
Summary: Or the one where they’re both oblivious and Lance thinks serenading his rival is a legitimate way to antagonize Keith. Keith’s just done with Lance’s bullshit.Evidently no holiday can never just be a nice, normal thing with these two around.(Note: this is the new, healthier version of the earlier fic of the same name)





	1. All I Want For Christmas Is (Not) You

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this one came when I was writing (revising? reworking?) a parody of All I Want For Christmas. Once I imagined Lance aggressively insulting/serenading Keith, there was no going back. What can I say, I enjoy making fun of Lance and wanted to explore Keith's point of view so... this happened.
> 
> Merry Christmas!
> 
> NOTE:  
> I finally read this story over again and realized, wow, okay, this relationship is veering worryingly towards unhealthy-and-potentially-emotionally-abusive territory. (Gee, I wonder where that came from. Certainly not from shitty relationships of my own...) So I rewrote it to be a lot healthier. I rewrote a parts of all the chapters, but chapter four was almost completely rewritten, so. If you're reading this and it seems pretty different from the new version, that's why.

Keith should have known that Lance would manage to pick up a karaoke machine, of all things. He wasn’t even sure where on earth (or, in this case, space) Lance had even found the damn thing, all he knew was that it was now set up in the kitchen with the Pidge’s help.

When he’d asked Pidge about why they thought it was a good idea, they’d shrugged, and said, “Odds are, he’s going to make a complete fool out of himself, as usual.”

“He’s capable of doing that without your help.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“So please don’t encourage him.”

“Look,” said Pidge, more serious than he was used to them being. “I miss Christmas. It’s not a thing in space, and I think we’re all more than a little homesick. So I convinced Hunk to make anything that reminds him of it in the kitchen. He’s figured out how to make something that’s kind of like eggnog, only a hell of a lot sweeter, and is trying to convince Allura to get us some ingredients from a few of the planets we’ve visited. There will be gifts. There will be Christmas morning. And we will all enjoy it.”

“But why does Lance have a karaoke machine? Karaoke machines have nothing to do with Christmas,” said Keith, exasperated.

Pidge sighed, and pushed their glasses up their nose. “Yeah, well, try telling him that. He’s adamant about putting up that bizarre alien mistletoe, too—he said something about convincing Allura to respect earth traditions.”

“That can’t possibly end well.”

They gave him a little half smile. “I’m only seeing upsides here. What’s more festive than a drunk Lance hitting on someone completely out of his league by manipulating the social constructs around Christmas traditions?”

“I, um.” Keith coughed awkwardly. “I wouldn’t really know.”

Pidge frowned. “What do you mean you wouldn’t… Oh. Right. You weren’t with us in the Garrison. I don’t know how I always forget that.” They pulled their big loop of wire back up onto their shoulder just before it slipped off to the ground. “I suggest that you get used to it soon, because odds are that if we get him drunk enough, he’ll hit on you too.”

Keith frowned. “What? Why?”

Pidge stared. “Seriously? You haven’t noticed how he…” They smiled slowly. “Oh, this is going to be good.”

“What?” Keith repeated, having no idea how else to respond to this. Did they mean that he was out of Lance’s league? But why would that be relevant with how aggressively straight Lance was? Unless… but no. It couldn’t possibly be that.

But Pidge was already off going off to figure out how to make Christmas lights with a mix of deconstructed Altean tech and a collection of some small Balmeran crystals that Shay had given Hunk the last time he’d visited her.

Lance finally seemed to notice Keith, and sending him that ridiculous smirk of his before shouting across the room “Hey, Mullet!”

“It’s not a mullet, Lance.”

“Well,  _Mullet_ , you better be here for karaoke tonight, because there’s a song waiting for you.” Lance winked at him.

Keith felt his cheeks grow hot. Definitely because Lance’s winks were, much like the rest of him, completely over exaggerated, and he felt embarrassed for him. It was a miracle he didn’t get secondhand embarrassment from him all the time, to be honest. “I don’t sing.”

“What?” Lance laughed. “Oh, you thought…? That’s not what I meant.”

Keith glared at him. He hated it when people made fun of how he could never seem to quite read social cues as well as they could, and Lance seemed to do it even more than most. “What did you mean, then?” he said curtly.

He smirked. “You’ll have to come to find out.”

Crossing his arms and taking a step back, Keith raised an eyebrow. “And see you awkwardly try to flirt with Allura again? I’m good.” He started walking off.

“If I promise not to flirt with her, will you come?” Lance said loudly after him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hunk gave them an odd look, and could have sworn he heard Pidge snort from their spot at the table and a mess of possible Christmas lights.

“If I agree, will you leave me alone until then?”

Lance was oddly silent, and when Keith glanced back at him, he couldn’t look away. There had been a flicker of something serious, something hurt in his expression. For a moment, Keith almost felt bad for him. But he shook his head. No. Lance was the one who was always attacking him, physically and verbally. It was only fair that he return the favor.

“Yes.”

“Then maybe I’ll be there.” Keith tacked on a smile after those words. 

The moment he was out of the kitchen and out of sight in the hallway, Keith leaned back against the wall, tilting his head back before closing his eyes and groaning. He always felt like an awkwaes mess after talking to Lance, like he had even less social skills than Lance, which was pretty insulting in itself.

After a while, Keith shook his head, and went to the training room to work off the leftover anger until he was too tired to move, let alone think.

 

***

 

By the time he made it down to the kitchen, everyone was already gathered sitting at their chairs, eating the Christmas dinner that Hunk had cobbled together.

Allura was laughing at something Pidge had said, while Hunk and Coran seemed to be having a conversation on how to find and prepare alien species for meals like this. Shiro was the only one who caught Keith’s gaze when he entered, and mouthed “Are you okay?”

Quiznak. Keith nodded back at Shiro, sitting down between him and Pidge and hoping that no one else noticed the exchange. Coran was eyeing him with curiosity, but everyone else seemed oblivious.

He stayed quiet throughout dinner, only responding when spoken to by anyone who wasn’t Lance. Thankfully, Lance stayed true to his promise and ignored him. Keith wasn’t really sure why he felt so torn between appreciation and frustration at that one fact. He pushed it out of his mind, and asked Pidge how they’d managed to set up the decorations, grateful that they noticed his discomfort and were perfectly willing to distract him by explaining it.

Since moving into the castle, he’d asked Pidge to help teach him to handle alien tech, figuring it would come in handy and wanting a distraction from the whole saving-the-universe thing. Because, incredible as it might be, there was only so much of it he could take before needing to clear his head. Being in constant mortal danger was annoying like that.

It wasn’t until dinner ended that Lance grinned with so much straightforward happiness that Keith forgot how to breathe for a moment.

Lance headed over to the karaoke machine. “Let’s get this party started!”

There was a collective groan, but a fond one.

He started off with a rendition of Santa Baby. As it turned out, Lance didn’t have a terrible voice, but he didn’t have a great one either. He was a slightly-better-than average and uncomfortably earnest singer, and, somehow, there was something worse about someone singing Santa Baby unironically. Of course he had to pick the most obnoxious Christmas song.

But it did the trick. A few more songs in, Pidge rolled their eyes and shoved Hunk towards the karaoke machine, and said, “We need someone to save us from Lance’s singing.”

Hunk… had an amazing voice. And pulled off an absolutely stunning version of the Christmas Song that left everyone gaping at him. Except Pidge and Lance. Lance was grinning so hard that it probably hurt, Pidge was smirking, and they were the first to start up a round of applause that everyone joined in for.

After that, the karaoke machine was fair game. Even Coran and Allura tried it out, fumbling over the lyrics and singing in the odd, wavering style that Alteans apparently had, something like a series of semi-intentional voice cracks, but there was a still a happy warmth to it that Keith appreciated.

It was, without a doubt, Keith’s favorite Christmas Eve.

Of course, that meant everything had to go to shit later. Lance, being Lance, managed to get drunk on Hunk’s eggnog and the Altean version of liquor, which tasted weirdly like vanilla, of all things.

He stumbled up to the karaoke machine the next time there was a break in the music, and stole the microphone. Keith was caught on how graceful Lance’s hands were in that one movement, like a musician’s hands, the same way they were when they sparred in training and he stopped thinking so much. Like how he should stop thinking now because  _it was not a good idea to be thinking this way about Lance._

“This’s Keith’s song,” was the only explanation he gave before pressing play.

Keith felt his cheeks go into what was probably a solid, emergency-light red, and it took a moment for his slightly buzzed brain to recognize what Lance was singing. It was, inexplicably, the beginning of the old Mariah Carey song, the one called “All I Want For Christmas Is You.”

 

_I don’t care about the presents_

_Underneath the Christmas tree_

_I just want to be alone_

 

The choice of song made slightly more sense once he realized that Lance had revised the lyrics, so it was more of “All I Want For Christmas Is (Not) You” than anything else.

 

_Make my wish come true_

_Let me spend my Christmas_

_Without you_

 

If Lance had changed the tone of the song to fit the new lyrics, it would have easily been insulting, and pissed him off. But there was still that longing in his voice, stronger than Keith remembered it being in the original version of the song. Which made Keith angry, but in a very, very different way.

 

_Santa Claus won’t make me happy_

_Unless he takes you away_

 

Turns out that, while Drunk Lance might say the same words that Sober Lance would, he said them differently, lending them a completely separate meaning.

 

_Well, I just want to be alone_

_Please leave me the hell alone_

_Make my wish come true_

_All I want for Christmas_

_Is not you_

Keith wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. There was something hypnotic about this kind of unintentional honesty, this way of Lance had of saying exactly what he meant instead of what he wanted to mean.

_I won’t make a list and send it_

_To the North Pole for Saint Nick_

_I truly wish I never met you_

_I’m not just trying to be a dick._

_‘Cause I just want you gone tonight_

_Please hop on the earliest flight_

Quiznak. Lance was still looking Keith in the eyes (Lance’s were the same blue-gray of a bluejay’s feathers, which was really not helping Keith’s scatterbrained state), and the competitive side of him wouldn’t let him look away. Keith was already lost in so many more ways than one, and the last thing he wanted was to lose this too.

_Santa won’t you tell him to leave me alone_

_Won’t you please leave me the hell alone_

_Oh, I don’t want a lot for Christmas_

_This is all I’m asking for_

_I just want to see you leaving_

_Walking away from my door_

Ironically, it was those last lines that finally pulled Keith out of it enough that he was able to shake his head and leave the kitchen. He had to force himself not to run down the hallway, knowing that the others would hear his footsteps, and knowing that this would tell them something that he wasn’t ready to know yet. Or have anyone know.

 

_I just want to be alone_

_Please leave me the hell alone_

_Make my wish come true_

_All I want for Christmas_

_Is not you_

 

So he couldn’t keep from catching those last lines, and they echoed in his mind as he wandered through the hallways, eventually trying to outrun his own memories.

Naturally, it didn’t work.

Keith could not, for the life of him, decide if this was a good thing or a bad thing.


	2. Merry Christmas (Now Will You Kindly Fuck Off?)

When Keith stumbled into the kitchen early in the morning as usual, he found Lance there waiting for him. Who he pointedly ignored, along with the anxious atmosphere that Lance had brought with him.

Still, he found himself glancing over at Lance every now and then as he prepared Coran’s weird Altean coffee-goo. The others still weren’t awake, but there was a small Christmas tree made from scrap metal and draped with some more of Pidge’s homemade Christmas lights. Gathered around its base was a limited assortment of blanket-wrapped gifts (wrapping paper and gift bags were hard to come by in space, so they’d had to make do). And as for Lance, well… he looked like he’d slept even less than Keith had, which was impressive in itself, because Keith honestly couldn’t remember if he’d fallen asleep at all the previous night.

Lance still looked unfairly good, the nervousness in how he keep tapping the toe of his left shoe against the ground endearing, along with the messiness of his hair and mussed clothes. He’d gotten ahold of an ugly Christmas sweater somehow—if Keith hadn’t known any better, he would have thought that he’d patched the thing together himself. Could Lance even sew? Or knit? Or something? He couldn’t remember.

No. Never mind, that wasn’t relevant. Keith tried to focus on his pseudo-coffee instead, but Lance was clearing his throat awkwardly every now and then and that made it hard to pretend he wasn’t paying close attention. Especially with how, whenever he looked up at Lance over the rim of his chipped mug, Lance was staring at him and caught him every time. Keith couldn’t really help himself, though, so it became an awkward cycle of sipping the cold coffee (Altean coffee was better that way--which was something he’d found out the hard way), trying not to look at Lance, failing, and going back to sipping his coffee, his cheeks getting hotter with every repetition.

The silence grew so cumbersome that he eventually said, “So. Merry Christmas?”

Lance cracked a small smile, and Keith felt a bit like he’d been punched in the chest by Shiro’s Galra hand. “Merry Christmas.”

The quiet was slightly more comfortable after that. Lance leaned back in his chair in an unconvincing imitation of nonchalance and said, “So. Based on the fact that Hunk refused to tell me anything about what happened last night, the way you obviously wish I’d leave you alone, and the fuzzy memories I have, we should probably talk.”

“About what?” Keith said carefully.

“Dude. Don’t make me say it. It’s awkward enough knowing that it happened without actually having to say it out loud.”

Keith went back to ignoring Lance.

“Ugh, fine. We need to talk. About.” Lance groaned and buried his face in his hands, looking a bit like he wished he could bury himself for real. “AbouthowIendedupsingingtoyouwhiledrunkuntilyouranaway.”

“Oh," said Keith. "That.”

Lance winced. “Yeah.”

“Or we could just… not talk about it.”

Lance sighed. “Look as much as I’d like to go with that strategy, Hunk locked me out of my room and swore he’d cut me off from his incredibly fantastic hugs until I talked to you about this. So. Here we are. Can we please just get this over with?”

“I’m good, thanks,” said Keith, before chugging down the last of his coffee with a wince, cleaning it off with one of those ridiculous hoses in the kitchen as quickly as he could before leaving.

Lance just watched him in silence the whole time, and the whole thing just pissed Keith off even more.

When he reached the training room, Keith began to beat the living shit out of one of the gladiators.

An hour or two later, at which point it was a bit closer to a reasonable time in the morning, Shiro found him there, sweaty and worn out, but still viciously attacking gladiators one after another.

“Keith. Come on. It’s Christmas, and the others are dying to open their presents, but Lance isn’t letting anyone open any without you there,” he said.

Keith swung his bayard hard enough to knock off the gladiator’s head. “Tell them I’m fine with not being there.”

“Keith.”

“Training level seven,” Keith called out. He waited. Nothing happened.

“Keith.”

“Fine. Training level eight.”

“Keith!”

“What?” Keith finally shouted out, glaring at Shiro. It was then that he noticed how Shiro had opened up a panel in the wall and still pressing the button hidden there. Allura or Coran must have shown him how to shut off the gladiator program after one too many of Keith’s late night training sessions.

Shiro crossed his arms and said, “No. That’s enough. You’re going to come with me and you will not, under any circumstances, ruin Christmas for anyone on this ship. Including yourself.

He opened his mouth to argue, and stopped when Shiro gave him a death glare fierce enough to kill a dozen Galra on sight.

Keith sighed. “Fine.”

***

When he first joined the others in the kitchen, Keith refused to uncross his arms and look up from the table. But, after Shiro forcefully nudged him, he grudgingly joined in. The relief in Pidge’s eyes left guilt gnawing at his insides. Hunk was watching him with concern and pity, and Lance kept glancing over at Keith even as he talked and laughed with the others. He couldn’t tell what the look Lance kept giving him meant, and instead tried to smile a bit and even joined the others in explaining to Coran and Allura how the gift-giving part of Christmas worked, and why they needed a tree and strings of lights and Balmeran crystals.

Of course, being Keith, this basically meant he muttered a few awkward words about Christmas being a holiday for families. Words that everyone apparently caught, and he got a lot of sympathetic stares for that one, which really just made him want to throw something or get the hell out of there. But he showed restraint and didn’t do anything too crazy. Just glared at everyone until Hunk cleared his throat and said, “Anyway, there’s a similar holiday that Lance is always talking about. What was it called again?”

“Tres Reyes Magos. It’s kind of like Christmas, but you leave out grass in shoeboxes for the Three Kings’ camels instead of cookies and milk for Santa.”

“What is a ‘camel’? asked Allura.

“It’s kind of like a horse? But with humps on its back? But you probably don’t know what horses are either…” Hunk trailed off awkwardly.

Seeing his discomfort, Pidge cut in with, “If the word isn’t translating correctly, maybe you don’t have anything similar enough for the translating program to pick it up?”

Coran nodded. “That would make sense. A bit like the sugar incident.”

Hunk groaned. “Ugh, don’t remind me.” He shook his head mournfully. “That was a sad, sad day. How could Alteans have absolutely  _no_  sweetners? How do you even survive?”

“About as well as you do now, I imagine,” said Coran.

When they finally got to the gifts, the atmosphere brightened up considerably. They’d all stopped at another space mall recently and spread out to pick out gifts for each other. It had been almost painfully difficult, but Lance had made it into a competition between him and Keith for who could find the best gifts for everyone and that had helped with the anxiety of finding something good for everyone. He wondered now if Lance had noticed his discomfort and challenged him specifically to ease that feeling. Before the events of last night, Keith would have dismissed it as a coincidence, but now he found himself reconsidering, and thinking through exactly how many times Lance had pulled him into that stupid rivalry when he was sinking back into the anxiety or that awful numbness when his mind started tearing itself apart.

Had it happened few enough times that it was likely it was by accident? Or had Lance really been paying such close attention to him as to know exactly when he needed a distraction?

“Keith. You still with us, buddy?” asked Hunk.

“Of course,” he said, snapping back to reality.

“Then would you open your gifts already?” asked an exasperated Lance. Was there an undertone of concern in his voice, or was Keith just imagining it?

“You guys got me gifts?”

Everyone looked at him like he must have lost his mind.

Shiro frowned, and was the first to speak. “Of course we did. Why wouldn’t we?”

“Oh. I… I don’t know. I’m just not used to…” Keith sighed and went quiet. Not knowing quite what else to do, he picked up the first gift and began to unwrap the blanket that covered it.

They’d agreed ahead of time to not say who had bought what for each other. Mostly to make sure that Keith and Lance didn’t turn it into a competition. Which, considering the shopping incident, was pretty understandable.

He got a knife to add to his growing collection of blades, a new red jacket, this time one that wasn’t cropped (which he appreciated; Keith had gotten so used to his old one that he hadn’t really noticed when he’d started growing out of it until Lance pointed it out and teased him mercilessly about it), a book on the differences between Altean and Galran tech, some of his favorite foods (obviously from Hunk), and a collection of hairties (he found himself staring at them in confusion, and then at Lance when he cleared his throat and said that whoever had gotten them had probably noticed how his hair always got in his face when he fought. Lance wouldn’t look him in the eyes when he said it, and Keith stared down at the blankets/wrapping paper strewn on the table in front of him, frowning contemplatively.)

Even though both Lance and Keith bickered mostly the same way they always did, after that moment there was something off about it, a bit of underlying tension that made their comments a bit more vicious than teasing. Or rather, Keith’s comments were a bit more vicious. He wanted to think Lance was reciprocating, but, damn it, he wasn’t oblivious enough to not notice how Lance was treating him like he was something good, when Keith knew for a fact that that belief didn’t match reality.

Okay, so maybe the viciousness was to try and show that to Lance. It wasn’t his fault that Lance couldn’t take the hint.

But the one thing that Lance would get exasperated at was how Keith wouldn’t talk to him about the karaoke incident, and Keith was frustrated because Lance wouldn’t drop it. Any moment they were alone, he’d drop the smirks and lazy posture to study Keith like he was trying to figure out what Keith was thinking.

Once the others were gone, Keith grabbed Lance by the wrist so he’d stay behind with him. “Would you stop doing that?” Keith snapped.

Lance frowned. “Stop doing what?”

Keith watched him warily. He  _seemed_  to genuinely not know what he was talking about, but it could just be another trick—

Lance snorted, but the sound was almost… fond? “Dude, how am I supposed to stop doing something if you won’t even tell me what I’m doing wrong?”

“Just—stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” Lance asked, exasperated.

“Like you give a shit! What’s the point of acting that way if you don’t really mean it?”

Lance stared at him in silence for a solid minute or two. When he finally did speak, his voice was impossibly soft, almost like a thought spoken out loud before it was ready to be. “You think I don’t give a shit?”

Now Keith was the one who was exasperated. “Yes! Why would you? It’s not like anyone else here does, and you’re the one who hates me most of all.”

Sighing out a tired laugh, Lance pushed away from the wall and made his way across the hall to Keith.

Keith’s heart was beating faster and he was thinking of inexplicable things like Lance kissing him. Which was ridiculous. Why would Lance ever want to do that with him?

“Keith.” He swallowed, throat dry enough that Keith could hear it. “I don’t know what ship you think you’re on and what team you think you have, but we all care about you. You should know that by now.”

“What?” Keith said incredulously.

“Yes, you dork,” said Lance. “Why do you think we risk our lives to keep you safe? To keep every member of this team safe? Why do you think we’re so relieved when you come back from one of your ridiculously reckless stunts and are still alive enough that we can shove you in a pod and hope you come out fine? Of course we give a shit.” He smiled weakly. “You’re Keith, the red paladin. The grouchy cat member of the Voltron family.”

The paladin in question raised an eyebrow in spite of himself. “The grouchy cat? Really?”

“What? We wander the galaxy in giant mechanical lions. I thought it was clever.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Of course you would. And, hey, I thought I was the ‘infamously straight-faced paladin.‘”

“You have many insulting titles. Most of which were given to you by me, but that’s completely beside the point.”

“Oh, really?”

Naturally, since they were just getting back into the usual rhythm of their conversations, Lance had to go and ruin it by asking, “Why do you have such a hard time believing that I would care about you?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Dude, if you keep thinking that you’re alone while you have a whole family of weird space-knights, it’s not nothing.”

Keith’s voice hardened. “Lance. Drop it.”

Lance set his jaw. “No. This matters. I can’t help you if I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

“Why would you want to help me?”

“You’re kidding.” But something in his expression must have given away how he felt because Lance’s eyes widened and he said, “You’re not kidding.”

“You know what? Fine,” Keith spat out. “It’s because I don’t know.”

Lance frowned in confusion and shook his head, opening his mouth to speak, but before he could respond, Keith cut him off again.

“I don’t know what to do around you. You—you’re just—you stay.” He found himself glancing at Lance because he couldn’t help himself, because he couldn’t fucking not care. Keith muttered, half to himself. “You stay.”

Laughing in one short, incredulous burst, Lance stared at him (damn it, why couldn’t Keith just look away when he wanted to?) “What does that even mean?”

Keith’s own words echoed in his head, and he realized exactly what it is he said. He set his jaw and said, “Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t fucking matter? What are you talking about?” Fuck, fuck, Lance was doing that awful thing where he looked so earnest and Keith had to get out, had to leave, had to be somewhere else. He didn’t care where as long as he was alone and Lance wasn’t there, wasn’t looking at him like Keith mattered.

He shook his head and left, the last sight of Lance gaping at him staying with him through hallways and rooms he couldn’t even notice. Lance’s heart stopping face stayed with him, even when all Keith wanted was to be lost. He wanted to not know his mind or anyone else’s, to just be alone, with no one around to complicate his life.

Instead, the answer to Lance’s question, the one about what Keith meant when he said Lance stayed, played over and over in his head like the world’s most obnoxious echo.

Keith didn’t know what to do with someone who stayed.


	3. So, I'm Definitely (Maybe) Not In Love With You

“Oh my god, you’re everywhere,” was the first thing Keith said when he finally went back to his room and found Lance waiting for him.

“Which is hilarious, because you’re nowhere.” Lance said. He was… oddly contained. It was unsettling to see him leaning against Keith’s wall with his arms crossed and his jaw clenched, staring at him like he was a stranger that Lance wanted to know.

And, before he could stop himself, he added, “Is this going to be a thing for us? You waiting to ambush me in places I’ll end up at some point?”

“It’s not an ambush. I’m allowed to be go to places I need to be, to eat and survive and all that.”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “You need to be in my room?”

Lance winced. “…you got me there.”

“Are you going to leave or what?”

Lance sighed, and the wry humor drained away again. He just seemed tired as he scrubbed a hand over his face. “As for if I’m going to keep waiting for you, that depends. Are you going to keep running away from me?”

“I’m not—“

He cut Keith off. “I didn’t get to answer you earlier. Because you seem to think that running away is a productive response to actually talking about things, and one of us has to be responsible.”

“It’s not like that, it’s—“

“About me staying,” said Lance. “First of all, dude. We live in a castle that doubles as a ship. In space. To fight a galactic war. Leaving isn’t really an option. Also, it’s a small ship. There’s not much where else to go.”

“Yeah, I thought so.” Keith’s hand went to his knife (which was, admittedly, a really weird nervous habit to have, but, hey, he’d never claimed to be normal.) “Now, can you get out of my room? Or will I have to sleep on the training deck?”

“You would seriously rather sleep on the training deck instead of talking to me?”

“It’s not like I haven’t done it before,” protested Keith.

“…okay, I didn’t think that statement could get any worse. You just have to prove me wrong, don’t you.” Lance rolled his eyes. “At least you aren’t serious.”

Keith didn’t respond to that.

Lance’s eyes widened and he stared at him. “Oh my god, you haven’t. Please tell me you haven’t actually slept on the training deck before.”

“It’s not as uncomfortable as it sounds okay?”

“What the quiznack, Keith. What even is…“ He took a deep breath. “No. Never mind, that’s beside the point. I was explaining it wrong.”

“I think you made it perfectly clear,” said Keith.

“Yeah, well, the fact that you just said that proves that theory wrong.” Lance groaned, and he stared at the ceiling, presumably to avoid looking at Keith. “Look, the thing is, even if we weren’t stuck on this ship, even if we weren’t stuck in this war, or this bizarre and awesome alien robot shit, I would still stay. We would all stay.”

“Then why didn’t we before?” Keith challenged.

Lance rolled his eyes again. “Because we didn’t know each other, you dork. Pidge and Hunk and I got along fine, you and Shiro got along fine, and if we had met each other—in more than just the vague rival way—I think we would have been just as inseparable.”

“You have no way of knowing that, Lance.” Keith’s voice came out a hell of a lot softer than he wanted it to.

“Yeah, well at least I know that I would have stayed with you anyway.”

Keith’s mind went completely blank. He stared at Lance, who was finally looking back at him, and in such a way that it felt like he was seen. Which was terrifying. “What?”

He snorted. “Why did you think I get so caught up in the rivalry? Why do you think it bothered me so much when we saved Shiro and you didn’t even remember me? Why do you think I’ve been ‘staying’, as you call it, this whole freaking time? Even before Voltron.”

“I don’t know, Lance. I don’t know. That’s the problem.”

“I guess I need to tell you, then.”

“Tell me what?” Keith asked, exasperated.

Lance clenched his jaw and closed his eyes for a moment before he opened them again and said, “You matter to me.”

This time it was Keith that couldn’t look Lance in the eyes. It was that goddamned sincerity in his voice, the way that Keith really, really wished he could think that Lance was lying, because that would be easier than whatever the hell this mess was, but even he knew that that wasn’t it.

When he did look back at Lance, it was with anger that surprised both of them. “Get out. Get the fuck out of my room.”

Lance shook his head and looked away. “I don’t know why I even bother anymore, when you don't hear anything good I say about you,” he muttered before opening the door. “Has it ever occurred to you that maybe the reason why people keep leaving is because you keep telling them to? None of us are saints, Keith. We can’t keep chasing after someone who keeps running. And someone who keeps running should stop being surprised when they leave people behind."

Keith flinched like he'd been punched in the gut. He opened his mouth to respond, but Lance barrelled on.

“And the hilarious thing is? Even when we do stay, you don’t.  _You_  leave. It’s not staying if one of us leaves.

“So, is this really what you want? Are you really that afraid of the fact that you might matter to someone who isn’t Shiro? Because if I leave now, I’m not coming back. You’ll have to be the one to look for me, because I’ve been dealing with your shit for too long. You need to start fighting back your fears, because otherwise they’ll get rid of everything else.”

“Out,” whispered Keith, low and dangerous and furious. "Get the fuck out of my room."

“I thought you might say that,” said Lance, and left.

 

***

 

Keith couldn’t sleep. Mostly because he couldn’t stop thinking about what Lance had said. And the longer he couldn’t sleep, the more pissed off he got, and this went on for an hour or two (or a quintent, or a varga, however the quiznacking Altean space time worked) before he gave up, grabbed his jacket, bayard, and knife, and practically ran to the hangar.

He breathed out a sigh of relief when he saw Red, and her mind curled reassuringly around his own.

“Hey, girl.” Keith walked up to her and rested a hand on her muzzle, drawing comfort from the feel of the warm metal under his hand. He wasn’t sure if all the lions were like this or if it was just because Red was the lion most suited to fire, but she always felt warm to him, like a living thing. Which, he supposed, she kind of was. Keith wondered if Blue did the same thing, or was cold to the touch. Maybe he could ask Lance the next time he—

He shook his head, dismissing the thought. Red’s jaw dropped open and he climbed inside. It always struck him as strange that they entered their lions through the mouth, of all places. Wouldn’t it be easier just to go through their side or something? If he brought it up with the others, Lance would probably laugh and say something about how they could always get in through their lion’s butt or crotch, and Keith would look at him with a mix of disgust and fondness because god  _damn_ it why did he have to like Lance, of all people. 

Quiznack.

And this was why he needed to fly Red right now, because this was ridiculous. He had to think of something other than Lan—The Paladin Who Must Not Be Named. Which was probably a reference he would never have made before the quiznacking blue paladin barreled into his life.

_Fucking quiznack why did every single thought lead right back to—_

_No. He was done with this. And a thought was all it took for Red to leave the hangar behind and head out into the blissful loneliness of space and stars._

Keith had been flying for a few earth hours, maybe, when he realized that he’d been in such a hurry that he’d gone into his lion without his suit and just in his normal clothes. Which meant no comms. He cursed, and flipped on the switch on the emergency comm system that Hunk had installed after he’d forgotten his suit or helmet one or two or six too many times.

And was immediately bombarded with the frantic shouting of the other paladins. Keith winced.

“—swear, he was right here an hour or two ago!” yelled Lance.

Allura sounded absolutely livid when she said. “Lance, for the last time,  _I don’t know how long an hour is_.”

Keith guiltily sunk down into his seat—quiznack, he wasn’t used to this, wasn’t used to giving a shit about other people caring when he disappeared, wasn’t used to anyone really caring when he disappeared.

“You were the one who wormholed away before everyone made it to the bridge!” Lance sounded both furious and frantic and Keith hated it.

“We received an urgent distress signal that was extremely time sensitive, so forgive me for assuming that all of the paladins would be responsible and say something before leaving,” Allura said frostily.

Shiro sighed. “Look, we’ll take care of the situation here as well as we can on our own while Hunk and Pidge figure out a way to reach Keith’s comm system, because we can’t head back until we know where he is and we might as well do what we can in the meantime—“

Pidge broke in with, “And, about that, I don’t know what’s wrong with this, it should be working! As long as he has his paladin suit on or the emergency—“

Keith finally processed what Lance had actually said. “You wormholed away without me?”

All of the others fell silent except for Lance, who said, “Exactly! Finally, someone else pays attention." He paused. "Wait. Keith?”

He winced. “Yes.”

And that was all it took for everyone to start talking over each other, somehow even worse than before. Surprisingly, it was Coran who shouted over the others and said, “Enough!”

And everyone went quiet. Possibly because it was so rare to have Coran take control like that.

“Keith, where are you?” asked Coran.

“I don’t know, some random asteroid field that was near the castle was before you left.”

“Are you in any danger?”

“No.”

Allura spoke up. “Shiro, can you handle this fight without forming Voltron and without the red lion?” 

“Maybe, but it’ll be close.”

“Can you do without the support of the castle for a little while?”

“For now? Yes, but we’ll need you back soon."

“Good,” continued Allura. “Keith, get out of the asteroid field and stay out of the way. Be ready to come to the castle as soon as it arrives."

“Got it.”

“Good luck, everyone.”

 

***

 

The wait was excruciating. He’d turned off the comms because there was nothing he could do from all the way out here. It was incredibly frustrating to hear everyone in danger and to be completely helpless. Helplessness was not a state that Keith had much experience with, and he was grateful for that, because it was terrible.

But now he was stuck in his lion. Alone. With nothing to do. And nothing to entertain himself other than his own thoughts. Red was not being much help at all, just keeeping quiet, and he knew it was because she was giving him the space and time to and time to work things out. Which was also frustrating.

The fact that she was probably right was even worse.

Keith slumped back in his chair and glared at Red. Well. At the ceiling, because it was kind of hard to glare at a sentient robotic lion while sitting in the cockpit of said sentient robotic lion. Keith snorted. Quiznack, his life had gotten strange.

And the whole paladin thing was only part of the problem. Because not only was he stuck in space with only six people for company, but one of those people was Lance. Lance, who made everything simultaneously worse and better, somehow; who he could argue with and get both mad at and blissfully distracted from the fact that he was in the middle of a war; who was infuriating but was still the reason that he had kept smiling at the thought of it. Before the fight, at least.

Oh.

Oh, quiznack.

Was he…?

No. Nope. It was something else. Literally anything else. Besides, even if that was true, it’s not like Lance would feel the same way. Lance considered them rivals, nothing else.

Which pissed him off even more.

Which was not helpful, because that only made him more suspicious of exactly how he felt about Lance.

And it wouldn’t work, anyway. It couldn’t work. Keith would fuck it up, somehow, like he always did. He’d get hurt and Lance would get hurt and things would get weird between them and then they wouldn’t be able to form Voltron and the universe would be screwed and—

Red came back, her thoughts smooth and steady. _Breathe,_  she told him.  _Breathe._

It wasn’t until he followed her advice that he realized he’d been on the verge of a panic attack. Panic attacks were a lot more common with him than he’d like to admit, but he hadn’t had one in a while, not since he left earth. Why?

It wasn't like there'd been any shortage of things to be anxious about. Not with the war, and the battles, and the people he cared so much about. Not with Shiro, and Pidge, and Hunk and  _Lance_  to worry about—

Oh.  _Oh._

There hadn’t been as many panic attacks because every time he would get close to that, Lance would do something stupid, something childish, something distracting enough, grounding enough that he felt safe. Because surely nothing could break too much, nothing could go too wrong, nothing too bad could happen to someone so ridiculous, someone so human. Surely that immunity extended to the rest of them, because, against all probability, they had become some kind of weird family. Some kind of safe place.

And oh crap. 

He liked Lance. He really, really liked Lance.

 Of course, because his luck was terrible, that was the moment that the castle showed up.

Keith flew back to it quick as he could, pushing aside his thoughts and focusing on getting to the battle and helping the others. On keeping them all safe, no matter what reckless things he had to do to make that happen.


	4. Say What You Mean (For Once)

The moment the battle was over, his thoughts from before came right back to him, and he was practically shaking with anticipation. Of what, he wasn’t entirely sure. Maybe he’d find out when they got back to the ship.

And he did. Because the moment they got back to the ship and the others noticed him, Keith saw just how worried and haggard they all looked, which was something that hadn’t really come across over the comm screens in their lions.

Lance glared at Keith before running toward him, probably to punch him or yell at him or  _something_. Keith tensed, but stood his ground without getting into a fighting stance, because he deserved whatever Lance would do to—

When Lance tackled him. Keith stumbled backwards a few steps, but managed to not fall.

“Quiznack, you  _asshole_ ,” said Lance.

There it was.

“I was so fucking worried.”

Wait. What?

And Lance was still holding on to him—wait, was he  _hugging_  Keith?

“ _We_  were so fucking worried,” Lance corrected.

What was going on? Since when was this a thing?

Lance was still hugging him. Was Keith supposed to be hugging back? Maybe. It felt weird to just stand there stiffly while someone was hugging him. Keith tentatively put his arms around Lance. He was pretty just his cheeks had just been set on fire, but it felt better than doing nothing.

“No one had any idea where you were, and Red wasn’t responding to our lions either, and I thought—we’d thought—that maybe you’d left and headed to earth?”

Keith frowned. “Why would I go to earth?”

Lance's hold on him loosened and he started to pull away, but Keith held on tighter. After a moment, Lance let out a shuddering sigh and sagged against him.

“Okay, I know you guys are already hugging, and I’m sorry, but I have to join in. I don’t know when I’m going to get another chance to hug Keith without worrying that he’s going to stick a sword in me,” said Hunk, and he put his arms around them both. “No offence, Keith.”

“It’s fine,” said Keith, resigned. And it did feel nice.

He was definitely not thinking about how Lance buried his face in the crook of Keith's neck and had gone back to holding him tightly, almost desperately, and how nice it felt to be held like this by the two of them.

“I’m coming in too,” said Shiro, and he added himself to the group hug.

Keith couldn’t really see anything, because he was in the middle of it and the shortest person there, so he only heard Shiro call out.

“Come on, Pidge!”

“Fine,” they said, but even Keith could hear the smile in their voice.

In the background, Allura spoke, presumably to Coran. “What are they doing?”

“Ah! From what Hunk and Lance have told me, it’s a cultural gesture known as a ‘hug’. It’s their way of expressing affection. I believe this variation is called a team hug. Or is it a group hug? I never remember the difference.”

“Do you think we’re supposed to join in?”

“Well, it is known as a very effective bonding exercise, so I highly suggest that we—”

“Oh, for the love of quiznack. Would you just get over here already?” said Pidge.

They stood there in silence for a moment while the Alteans probably joined in. Keith decided that he didn’t know how to handle being hugged by Lance and everyone else for this long, and said, “Okay, as much as I appreciate this, I'm getting extremely uncomfortable here. Could we…?”

“Oh. Yes. Right. Yes. Sorry,” said Lance. He sounded almost...embarrassed? He pulled away slightly but stayed just as close, since no one else moved.

“Um. Guys?” said Keith.

Everyone disengaged and shuffled backwards a bit awkwardly. Lance cleared his throat and looked away.

“Well, that was great and all, but it’s like four in the morning on earth time, and we should probably get some sleep,” said Pidge.

Everybody stared at them.

“What?”

Lance was the first to speak up. “It’s just… you’re normally not the one to worry about sleep.”

Pidge rolled their eyes. “We just got out of a pretty intense battle. I’m allowed to get tired.”

“You’re not just going back to your room to work on something are you?”

They snorted. “For once, no. Though I appreciate your undying faith in me.”

“I don’t know about you guys, but I haven’t been this tired since we were trying to take back the Balmera. So, I think I’ll follow Pidge’s lead on that one,” said Hunk, and glanced between Keith and Lance before looking pointedly at Shiro, Allura, and Coran.

Was he…?

Shiro straightened like he’d been electrocuted. “Right. I think it’s time we all get some rest.”

Quiznack, he was.

Everyone but Keith and Lance left, and Keith was torn between embarrassment and nervousness.

Lance, being Lance, started talking the moment that the others were gone.

“Please don’t ever do that again. We need you here, not off flying through some quiznacking asteroid field—”

One corner of Keith’s mouth crooked up. “I thought you weren’t going to talk to me.”

Lance sputtered. “I wasn’t—that’s not—you know what I meant, Mullet!”

“Sure.”

Lance took a deep breath before looking him back in the eyes again, and, wow, okay, the serious look in his eyes had the same effect as being hit in the back of the head with the side of a gun. Except less unpleasant. Considerably less unpleasant.

“I just wanted to say that...I'm sorry. The things I said to you...” Lance shook his head. "Look. I still think you're running when you shouldn't have to, but what I said was wrong."

Keith blinked, his eyes and cheeks hot.

Lance scrubbed at his face and said, "I don't know what you've been through. And you don't owe me anything of those stories. But even if you shared them, it's not okay for me to judge you for reaching to things I haven't been through in ways I don't understand. If you want to leave, then you can leave." He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. "If you want to avoid me or be angry, then you have every right to be."

Keith picked at the wrists of his gloves. He was trying and failing to stop watching Lance with all the hunger and desperation and distrust that he felt, but suspected he wasn't succeeding even a little bit.

"I guess it was just my clumsy, awkward way of trying to tell you that I want you to stay. You mean a lot to me," Lance barrelled on, the nervousness in his voice obvious and strangely comforting. "And if you're leaving because you want to leave, you have every right to. Heck, even if you want to stay and choose to leave anyway, you have every right to do that too. Those aren't my choices to make for you."

There was an unfamiliar warmth in Keith's chest and he was breathing hard like he'd just walked off of a battlefield.

Lance crossed his arms over his chest like he was trying to hold himself in. "I guess what I was trying and failing miserably to say is, I want you to stay. I want to argue with you and make fun of each other and have fun together and I want you fighting with me when we go against Zarkon. If you want to leave just because you do, then I get that." He took in a deep breath. "But I think you're leaving when you want to stay, and I hate seeing you refusing something you want because you're afraid."

Keith stared at him, startled and confused and lost. Because this was new. This--and apology, an admission of a mistake, a choice--it was completely, utterly new to him.

Lance let out a strangled laugh. "Though, after that argument, I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to leave. I was an asshole and you didn't deserve any of that."

Keith studied him, and when he spoke, it was an closer to his usual tone, but with a bit of seriousness and softness that usually wasn't there. “Okay.”

Lance flicked his gaze from one of Keith's eyes ro the other. "Okay what?"

Keith took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and looked Lance directly in the eyes when he said, “Okay. Let's try this again.” He stuck out his hand. "Hi, I'm Keith. I'm a paladin of Voltron and I'm very good at running."

Lance shook his hand and gave him a tiny, almost shy smile. "I'm Lance. I fight purple space cats and I'm trying to learn when to wait and when to chase after someone."

 

***

 

That night, Keith couldn’t sleep. Again. 

Quiznack, if this was going to be a regular thing with him, he was going to have to ask Coran for sleeping pills or whatever the Altean equivalent for that was.

Grumbling, he walked out, still barefoot and in the sleeping clothes he’d found in his room’s closet. He was halfway to the hangar before he remembered what happened last time, and turned away to wander. Naturally, because the universe had a terrible sense of humor, the next time he looked up, he found himself standing in front of Lance’s room.

It honestly wasn’t that surprising, considering how he’d been thinking about Lance and their last conversation the whole time, but he wanted to at least  _pretend_  that it wasn't, damn it.

He sighed, and knocked on Lance’s door.

Lance took long enough to get to the door that Keith was just about to knock a second time when the door slid open.

He was leaning against the door frame, disheveled in a way that made Keith shove his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching out to him. Lance was so close to being asleep that his eyes were almost completely closed. “Pidge, for the last time, I’m not volunteering to be your guinea pig, and—”

He must have caught sight Keith, because he straightened slightly and his eyes opened. “Keith?”

"Yes?”

Lance fell back against the doorframe with a faint thud, and his eyes went back to a half closed state.

Keith pushed his hands deeper into his pockets. It didn’t really help.

“What's up?” asked Lance.

Keith stared at the floor like it was about to offer him the secrets of the universe. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“So you came here?” Lance still sounded sleepy and confused. In spite of himself, Keith felt his cheeks flush.

“Yes?”

Lance snorted in a way that almost sounded like the beginning of a fond laugh. “I noticed. I’m asking why.”

Keith took a deep breath took his hands out of his pockets to cross his arms, in a fruitless attempt to physically keep in what little confidence hadn’t abandoned him when sleep did. “I just...didn't want to be alone right now.”

He seemed to wake up a bit more at that, and stared at Keith with something like awe before wiping the sleep from his eyes. “You sure you want to be with me?”

"Yes."

Lance cleared his throat. He stepped aside and gestured inside. "Well, who am I to reject a paladin in need? Come on in."

As Keith walked past him, he couldn’t help but stare at the bed. It was just as disheveled as Lance was, and when Lance sat down on his bed, Keith stood by him awkwardly.

“You sitting down or what?” said Lance.

Keith sat down.

He was dead. He was so dead. Lance’s bed smelled like fucking heaven, and oh crap now he was thinking about heaven and Lance and Lance's bed which was a really unhelpful combination—

“You good?”

“Yep. Good. Great. Fine,” said Keith.

Lance quirked an eyebrow and shifted until he was comfortable splayed and half the bed was free. “You going to lie down any time soon?” His eyes widened and he quickly added, "Only if you're comfortable with that. We could always figure out something else if you'd prefer."

“No, this is good,” Keith said quickly. Before he lost his nerve he climbed into the bed and lay there, still and stiff as a corpse.

Lance huffed out a laugh. Keith looked over at him, and saw he was gesturing for Keith to come closer. "Come over here."

Keith scooted forward until he was only an inch or so away. Rolling his eyes, Lance reached out an arm, wrapping it around his waist and gently pulling Keith closer with a warm hand on his back. "Better?"

His head was tucked just under Lance's chin, so he could feel the words as Lance's said them. Keith melted against him at how ridiculously good it felt to be held like that.

Lanced chuckled, and Keith felt it more than he heard it, through the vibration of the sound and the slight shaking of his laughter. "I'll take that as a yes."

When Keith finally did fall asleep, he was still smiling from that last thing Lance had said to him.


	5. Congratulations On Not Hating Each Other (Bonus Chapter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter from Pidge's point of view. It takes place the morning after the last chapter left off. And this one's pure fluff, for once :)

Pidge was on their way to get breakfast—which they got perfectly well on their own, thank you very much. They were an insomniac, not an idiot—when she saw Lance and Keith walking out of Keith’s room, talking to each other. Smiling. Well, apparently they figured their shit out yesterday. 

“Morning,” Pidge said, and yawned as they walked past them.

Then Pidge froze, and turned around. “Wait. Did you both just come out of Lance’s room?”

Quiznack, they were getting slow out of sleep loss. Maybe they’d ask Coran for something to help them sleep.

“…no?” said Lance. The two of them were doing their best (read: unconvincing) job of not looking at them and looking anything but guilty.

“We were just sleeping together,” said Keith. “Wait. That came out wrong, I meant we were literally just sleeping. In the same bed. Because we fell asleep after—”

“I don’t want to know,” Pidge was quick to interrupt. Of course, they knew when Keith was being sincere, but it was fun to fuck with his mind a bit.

Keith glared helplessly at them. “After  _talking_. Because it was late and we were both tired."

Pidge smirked. “Sure, I believe you.”

“Lance, back me up on this.”

“Yeah, we ‘fell asleep’,” said Lance. “Many times actually.”

Keith turned his glare to Lance. “The air quotes are really not helping.”

“Dude,” said Pidge. “It’s fine. I believe you. You’re not stupid enough to sleep with Lance without going on at least a few dates first. And the rest of us would have noticed if you’d…Wait. Damn, I thought we’d have more time. And, quiznack, I really need to get some sleep.”

“More time for what?”

“Before you idiots started dating.”

Keith had a coughing fit.

“Pidge! Why did you want more time?” Lance asked, annoyed.

Pidge sighed. “Because I know both of you, and I know how long you’ve been pining for each other, and I know you’re both going to be sappy as fuck after this.”

Lance and Keith exchanged glances.

“Well,” said Lance. “You’re not wrong.” He smirked. “Keith  _is_  a total sap.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry, babe, I kind of love it,” Lance said to Keith over his shoulder, trying to be casual and failing miserably because he’s Lance.

Keith turned an embarrassingly bright shade of red and muttered, “Lance, we haven’t even talked about if we’re dating yet, could you hold off on the pet names?”

“Look,” Pidge cut in. “As much as I love you both—”

Lance grinned. “Aww, you care!”

“Shut up, Lance. As much as I love you,  _Keith,_ ” they said pointedly. “I have a feeling you’re both going to be just as weird about dating as you were about your flirting. Or your ‘rivalry’, as Lance liked to call it.”

“Hey, that wasn’t flirting! That rivalry was completely legit. And, for your information, we were just as wonderful then as we are now." 

Keith buried his face in his hands, and said, “Damn it, Lance.”

Pidge wrinkled their nose. “Somehow, it’s even worse than I thought it would be. But, either way, I have to warn the others. Fuck my life.”

But they smiled after they turned away from the new couple. “Dorks,” Pidge said after leaving the room, shaking their head fondly.


End file.
